


Cradle

by d0g-bless (d0gbless)



Series: A New Breed of Training [13]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Babies, Domestic, Established Relationship, Everyone Is An Adult, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Guilt, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Kangaroo Care, Kid Fic, NICU, Next Generation, Original Character(s), Original Child Character(s) - Freeform, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Preemies, VLD 7 Spoilers, premature baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 17:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15418017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0gbless/pseuds/d0g-bless
Summary: In which Shiro gets to hold his daughter for the first time.(Includes some VLD 7 spoilers. AKA a few things we know from SDCC.)





	Cradle

**Author's Note:**

> This includes some spoilers for VLD season 7's first episode/what we've learned from SDCC, so if you don't want to know, don't read it.
> 
> And yeah, I'm making details up as I go along. It's not going to fit perfectly with canon (it already doesn't), but I do want to include some snippets or nods to newer seasons here and there.

Shiro pressed his face against the glass window separating him and Pidge from the NICU.  His heart thundered in his chest as he scanned row after row of preemies for his daughter for what felt like the hundredth time. _Sammy Shirogane-Holt, Sammy Shirogane-Holt._

She wasn’t there, but his brain refused to accept that fact. Sammy had to be there. She was in this room yesterday, and the day before that, and so on and so forth, about two weeks since she was born. Did something happen? Had she gotten worse?

He shook his head and that train of thought away. No. If she’d gotten worse, the hospital would’ve contacted them.

“Katie? Takashi?”  It was Bridgette, the nurse who’d helped care for Pidge during her extended stay and helped them access the NICU for the first time. “I’ve been looking for you two.”

Shiro’s heart sank.  Maybe  she was here to tell them some terrible news in-person. Skipping over pleasantries, Shiro jumped right into asking, “Where is she?”

“We’ve moved her into a private room.”  Upon seeing Shiro and Pidge’s concerned expressions, Bridgette  quickly  added, “Given how well she’s been doing — she’s no longer anemic, and her weight is just slightly above the average of other babies her age — we thought she would do well in her own suite.”

A sigh of relief escaped from Shiro’s lungs. Sammy was doing well. Well enough that she wasn’t with the other sickly infants.

“Is she still getting the treatment and care she needs?” Pidge asked. “And what about monitoring her breathing and blood cell count? She’s getting all that there, right?”

Bridgette nodded. “She  certainly  is, and don’t worry, someone is always with her. In fact, I was about to head on over there for my shift. How about we all go together?” 

Pidge slipped her hand into Shiro’s and gave it a squeeze. He couldn’t help but marvel at how well her little fingers fit along his.

Hand-in-hand, they fell in line behind Bridgette, following her lead.

* * *

Another hallway entrance and glass divider separated private rooms from rooms filled with rows and columns of premature newborns.  Bridgette explained that these kept the preemies in one area away from any germs lingered in private rooms and vice versa. It made sense since the NICU had strict policies on guests and even the parents themselves. Keeping rooms and visitors apart prevented compounding preemie health problems. “The babies’ health comes before anything else.”

For that, Shiro and Pidge were grateful, though it also made things difficult on their end. Neither of them had  been allowed  to hold her yet. At most, Pidge could slip a finger in through a hole in Sammy’s incubator and let her hold it. Shiro,  on the other hand, refused to even attempt it. She was so small and so many things had already gone wrong for her. He couldn’t let anything else happen to her, even if that meant letting Sammy bond with her mom before anyone else.

“And here we are.” Bridgette cracked open the door for the new parents. “Come on in, don’t be shy!”

The private room itself was  fairly  nice, with plenty of room for a little thing like Sammy and for parents and a nurse or doctor. Cabinets and drawers lined one side of the room with a sink as its centerpiece.  The side of opposite the sink  was painted  with calming colors in what appeared to be a jungle theme complete with lions, as if the cute décor and colors somehow might distract visitors from the computers, wires, and tubes connected to an incubated bassinet on wheels.  If the colors didn’t distract from the beeping monitors,  maybe  the neon green chairs on each side of the bassinet did.

Sammy slept, swaddled in layers of blankets, which rose and fell  unsteadily  and  unevenly  with each passing breath. Shiro knew that she couldn’t breathe without a CPAP machine, or tubes wired through her nostrils. It kept her sleep apnea at bay and her oxygen supply consistent.  But it didn’t make it any less frightening to watch her little chest collapse with each exhale and struggle to rise with inhale.

“Hi, Sammy.” Pidge took the far seat next to the bassinet and offered her daughter a finger, and sure enough, Sammy took it. “You’ve got such a strong grip!”  She glanced over her shoulder to Bridgette, and then looked back across the bassinet to her husband. “Shiro, do you want to try?”

Shiro shrank back. “Um,  I think  I’ll pass for now.”

“Do you want to hold her?” Bridgette asked.

More than anything. Shiro stopped himself from saying those words, words he  was supposed  to say and _want_ to say. After all, Pidge was the one who did most of the work for the last several months; she should have the honor first. “Um, do you want to go first, Pidge?”

“I carried her for several months.  I think  —” Pidge swallowed hard. “  I think  you should be the first to hold her.”

“You sure?”

Pidge nodded. “Please. You’ve been the one who kept saying how you were dying to meet her.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

_I’m not._ Shiro blew a tendril of white hair away from his face, hoping any sign of hesitation left him along with that breath. Anxiety continued to flutter about in the pit of his stomach. “O-okay.” So much for at least trying to come off as confident.

Bridgette beamed at him. “Let’s get Daddy ready then,  shall  we?” She patted the last available chair. “Make yourself at home while I get some blankets and a thermometer. Do you want a wrap and a changing screen?”

“Changing screen?” His ears burned and managed to catch Bridgette’s cheerful humming. He scratched the back of his neck, still warm from embarrassment.

“Kangaroo care,” Bridgette stated  flatly.  “It’s skin-to-skin contact, which is super important for all babies, but especially for preemies. You’ll undress from the waist up, and if you want a wrap to cover up, I can get you one.”

“Don’t worry about the screen,” Shiro replied with an amount of confidence that surprised even him. “Could you grab the wrap? I don’t know if I want it yet.” He mumbled under his breath, “Please call me Shiro.”

“Of course!” Bridgette scurried out of the room, leaving her patient and her parents to their own devices.

“Daddy, huh?” Pidge didn’t bother to look up from Sammy.

Shiro coughed out a nervous laugh as he worked his shirt off. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who found that awkward.” He tossed the shirt on the arm of the chair Bridgette told him to take. “Makes me feel a little better.”

Pidge gave a little hum of agreement — or amusement.  Maybe  both.  She studied her daughter with a gentle gaze, her golden eyes honeyed with a hint of scientific curiosity. “I love her so much, Shiro,” she said, voice cracking. “So much it doesn’t make any sense.”

Shiro forced himself to sit in the chair across from Pidge. “So much that it almost scares you.” He fiddled with a rod on the side of the chair — a recliner — and put his feet up.

“Exactly.”

He stared at the ceiling, unsure of what to say, what to think, what to do. Unsure of anything. His hands clenched into fists. At least he could fight with those. Take action. Do something!

But he couldn’t do anything for her.

He craned his neck to look over at Sammy. She was tiny. Precious. Fragile. What had he done to deserve her? His hands had  been stained  with the blood of so many lives, good and evil. He’d killed — no, he’d murdered — innocent people so that he could survive.  Maybe  this was karma for all that he’d done. It was fair,  perhaps, that his daughter was born early and sickly.  He traced a particularly ugly scar, the one where his stump of a right arm ended and the updated Galran prosthetic, which his wife and Hunk had reworked, started. What was it he’d told Pidge? Or she’d told him? That  each and every  scar told a story.

Maybe  one day he’d be ready to tell Sammy those stories.

“Alright, here’s the wrap and the blankets,” Bridgette announced as she returned. “Are you comfortable, Shiro?”

Shiro swallowed the lump in his throat. “Actually, I’ll hold her without the wrap.”

“Well, if you want it —”

“I don’t. I want Sammy to see me… As I am.”

Bridgette’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Very well.” She inspected the tubes and machines hooked up to Sammy. Once she knew they were all in place, Bridgette unbuttoned Sammy’s onesie. “Skin-to-skin,” she repeated.

“Won’t she be cold?” Pidge asked, voice thick with worry.

Bridgette shook her head. “Blankets.”  She peeled Sammy out of the onesie, leaving the infant wearing only a diaper, white cap, and oxygen tubes and whatever else she  was hooked  up to. “Okay, Shiro, you ready?”

_No._ He nodded.

Bridgette wrapped Sammy up in a blanket and arranged Shiro’s hands to ensure Sammy would  be supported. His prosthetic held Sammy up by her rear, and his other hand rested on her back. Once she  was satisfied  with Shiro’s grip, Bridgette took a few steps back.

His arms and hands trembled  violently  as he cradled her against his chest for the first few minutes. _Get a grip!_ He told himself. _Keep shaking like this, and you’ll drop her and break her._

“Hey, Shiro.”

He winced. Pidge was going to take Sammy back from him. He’d already failed as a father, as a husband, as a person —

“You’re doing a great job.”

Pidge’s words settled into Shiro’s bones, allowing his joints to loosen up and even his muscles to relax. He took a deep breath. It was okay. She was going to be okay. He was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

Sammy nuzzled her cheek against her father’s chest.  The tubes snaking up into her nose felt cold and sharp against the rest of her, but he didn’t mind,  just  as she didn’t seem to mind that his palm covered most of her back.

This felt right.

Blinking back tears did nothing to quell the hiccup-y sobs forcing their way out of Shiro’s mouth. “She’s perfect, Pidge.” Those three words didn’t even begin to cover the rush of emotions and thoughts swirling around Shiro’s mind. He wondered if it was even possible to articulate any of them. He’d seen and done plenty of things he couldn’t explain in galaxies he once had thought far beyond his reach.

The fact that he once had suffered from a chronic disease and still became an astronaut was a miracle. That Samuel Holt insisted Shiro go on the Kerberos mission. Sam fought for him in despite the warnings of high-ranking Garrison official.

After he and Adam broke up, Shiro had wondered if it were possible to fall in love with someone like that again. (Pidge, of course, proved him wrong there time and time again.)

Then he and the Holts  were abducted by  aliens. The Galra were both a blessing and curse. Haggar had made him stronger — cured him, even. But at the cost of slaughtering innocents in a ring as Champion. There had been many a night where he’d wished himself dead or still dying of his illness so he wouldn’t have to kill again. But he’d kept pushing forward, refusing to give up then and there.

Shiro had escaped imprisonment and found himself drifting in and out of consciousness in Pidge’s arms until they'd reached Keith's cabin. Then he’d died in a battle with Zarkon, only for Allura to resurrect him in the body of a clone.

These were things he could make sense of and could explain.

But his daughter was a miracle he couldn’t put into words.  He and Pidge made her —  unintentionally, yes, but in a way, that too was miraculous, especially given how consistent Pidge had been with taking her birth control. She was part of Pidge but also part of him. And yes, she was perfect, and he felt his heart swell with pride and love at that very thought.

Shiro reclined back in the chair, finally at peace with the world in this moment. He closed his eyes. Sammy was here now, earlier than expected, yes, but she was here. And that was all that mattered.

Pidge watched her family through misty eyes.

Shiro had fallen asleep with Sammy safe in his arms and a relaxed smile on his face. Not a single line on his forehead or frown indicated the presence of a night terror. She could tell he was at peace with his new role, regardless as to whether or not he liked the title “daddy” that came with it.

Sammy’s eyes fluttered open for a mere second before closing once more. A mere second long enough for Pidge to see that her eyes were no longer a milky newborn blue but a honey-gold amber. For as much as Sammy looked like her father, it seemed there was some Holt in her after all.

The corners of Pidge’s mouth quirked up.

Shiro would  be delighted.


End file.
